


Black powder weapons

by Toinette93



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Inspired by a 19th century Polish memoir, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missions Gone Wrong, Not Beta Read, Season 1, Set early in the series, Short One Shot, flint lock rifles, might be read as pre-slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93
Summary: "Shots are being fired everywhere. Pinned down behind a rock by fire from a type of weapon that had not been used on Earth for centuries – flint locks of all things – Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is seething."---Sometimes, not interfering means getting caught between a rock and a hard place. Where the low yield of black powder weapons has some unpredicted consequences.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed & Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	Black powder weapons

Shots are being fired everywhere. Pinned down behind a rock by fire from a type of weapon that had not been used on Earth for centuries – flint locks of all things – Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is seething. He's been ordered not to bring his phaser rifle on the mission and is stuck trying to provide cover fire for the Chief Engineer and two of his Crewmen with some inefficient weaponry he is not even particularly proficient in using. He should have been the one over there. Would anyone on this ship ever let him do his bloody job ! It seems Commander Tucker's proving as bad at ensuring his own safety than Captain Archer is. Said it was his damn fault the piece of equipment had been left there in the first place and he should be the one taking the risks of destroying it.

Malcolm fires another shot. With the amount of smoke these things produce he has no way to know if he has touched anything. He frankly doubts it. They're hardly precise. His communicator beeps, signalling the piece of equipment has been destroyed.

Malcolm gives a last shot and begins to retreat. They're but a few meters from a line of plants that are completely harmless to them but deadly to the native species. That should provide them with time and cover enough to reach the hidden shuttlecraft, and, as their Floridian Chief Engineer would put it, get the hell outta here.

They run. They are past the line of vegetation, and the pursuit is slowing down, becoming hesitant. Malcolm is in sight of the shuttle when he hears Crewman Ho's panicked voice screaming "Commander !"

Malcolm looks back and his superior officer is clutching his chest and stumbling, supported by Ho. Malcolm stops a feeling of dread clenching at his heart. Dammit! He motions to Ensign Giovanetti who's catching up and getting ready to help carrying her CO: "Get the shuttle going, I'll take care of the commander".

The tall woman nodds and obeys Ho and Reed both being rather small it will be easier that way. The armoury officer passes his arm around Tucker's shoulder, and with the help of Ho, draggs him along towards the shuttle. They do not have much time. They can't risk the shuttle getting discovered. Heaven knows what such an advanced piece of technology would do to this culture.

They are in the shuttle, Giovanetti closes the hatch and Ho, under orders, makes for the co-pilot seat, as the craft starts to take off.

Malcolm grimly keeps on half-carrying Tucker towards a bench in the back of the shuttle on which the engineer all but collapses.

"Trip!"

The nickname escapes Malcolm without any conscious thought. He corrects himself.

"Commander!"

He sees the fear in his CO's eyes reflecting his own slight panic. He gets him more firmly on the bench getting ready to look him over.

"Giovanetti, comm Phlox" he says, and even with his field medic training he wishes the Denobulan were here.

"Yes, sir" answers the Ensign.

Malcolm, grabning the medkit gets his attention back on Trip. The man's breathing is coming in gasps and yet there does not appear to be any blood.

"Trip, where does it hurt?" Malcolm asks, propriety forgotten at the paleness of the other's face. The scanner can't seem to find anything wrong with the commander apart from a small contusion on his chest.

"Bullet in the chest!" Answers the engineer, looking anywhere but at his chest. "Where d'ya think?"

Malcolm gets Tucker's shirt open looking for an open bullet wound. He finds none, although the engineer's chest is quite blue from a rather large bruise that is forming around what appears to be the zipper of the uniform having stuck into the skin. A small bullet falls into the lieutenant's hand. He feels giddy with relief, but Tucker is still trembling, he needs to calm down, he might yet have cracked a few ribs.

"Commander" he says, his voice much calmer. "Put your hand on your chest"

The shuttle shudders, the last turbulence before leaving the planet's atmosphere. The engineer does not react and so Reed takes Tucker's hand and puts it there himself.

"Commander, does it feel wet?"

Trip shakes his head no, blond locks going up in surprise.

"Look at it" the lieutenant adds getting it before his eyes. "Is there any blood?"

Trip looks and indeed there is none. To Lieutenant Reed's immense relief, Tucker's gaze gets a more focused look, and his breathing eases up a notch.

"I think you're going to be ok, commander. Your zipper stopped the bullet. It can happen at the end of trajectory of those things. Not enough kinetic energy." Reed added, musing half to himself in relief.

"Dr Phlox will check you more thoroughly when we get there. But it seems you got a bullet on the chest, not in it" He smiles.

Trip seems to come out of his shocked state and to take in the sight of the usually so reserved lieutenant kneeling in front of him, hand still holding his own. The engineer tries to get up, but winces at the pain in his bruised chest.

"You're better stay seated, sir. We're almost there."

A hand lingers on Trip' s shoulder.

"We're docking now, sir." Ho says, interrupting the moment.

"Phlox' s team is in place." Adds Giovanetti.

They dock. The medical team is there, ready with full respiratory assistance equipment, that they are both surprised and glad not to be needing after Giovanetti's somewhat frantic report of their chief engineer having received a bullet to the chest.

Archer is there too, pale and tense, jaw clenched. Tucker is taken to sickbay, with Phlox's assurances he will be just fine and the whole team goes through decon.

A few days later, Trip is back on duty, Archer tells him at dinner that evening how glad he is he's still alive and T'Pol raises an eyebrow that Trip thinks means she agrees. He might be getting better at reading their resident Vulcan.

In the turbolift the next day, Trip even manages a "Thanks, Malcolm, for what ya did over there on that planet"

Reed nods, says "I am glad the injury wasn't any worse, sir" and gives one of those half-smiles that Trip just thinks that one day, he might figure out. He feels compelled to add something more.

“I bet ya woulda loved ‘ta bring back some of these weapons ‘ta study lieutenant.”

“Yes, it’s a pity, sir. Although it would only have been out of curiosity sir, they’re not exactly efficient.”

There is a fuller smile on Reed’s lips as he says that, and Trip chuckles at the dry humour, thinking he would not mind seeing that smile and hearing those jokes more often. Didn’t think the man had it in him.

Then they are at their respective destinations, and go back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks !  
> Hope you people enjoy this little fic, my first forray in Star Trek : Enterprise fanfiction.  
> This is not exactly an original story, it is largely inspired from a 19th century Polish memoir recounting the experience of an officer during the Napoleonic wars. The reference to the original text is as follows :  
> Józef Szymanowski, Pamietniki jenerala Jozefa Szymanowskiego, Lviv, W komisie H. Altenberga, 1898, p. 105‑106.  
> The translation in French (which is what I read, as I don't speak Polish beyond Hi how are you) is : Joseph Szymanowski, Mémoires du général Szymanowski, traduit par Bohdane Okinczyc, Paris, Javauzelle, 1900, p. 65‑66.  
> If that interests you, the texts are on archive.org, or feel free to ask me in the comments I got the pdf. I don't know if there is a translation in English somewhere or not, though.  
> Please tell me what you thought in the comment, and well, live long and prosper, people !  
> Cheers  
> Toinette


End file.
